


What A Tangled Web

by Medie



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: undermistletoe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Mohinder Suresh's father disowned his gay son. Years later, everything has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [](http://azarsuerte.livejournal.com/profile)[**azarsuerte**](http://azarsuerte.livejournal.com/), [](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/profile)[**havocthecat**](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/), and [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) for your beta work. I dropped a lot of work on you ladies. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Written for undermistletoe's Harlequin week. Prompt - Settling down was not on J.T. Hunt's to-do list—until his ailing father delivered an ultimatum. Now the millionaire bachelor was suddenly shopping for a bride. But, happily-ever-after came with strings attached: His prospective wife had to marry him for love.

With a vicious oath, Matt Parkman yanked the tie from his neck. Flinging it down in frustration, he stalked away from the closet door's mirror. The trip to his bed was a short one as he crossed the tiny room in two strides. Waiting for him on the gun-metal grey blanket that covered the roll-away bed was an array of gaily-patterned ties, all ready to be chosen and worn out the door to his first day at Petrelli International.

He exhaled heavily, his shoulders raising and lowering with the emphatic gesture. Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Uprooting his daughter and moving across country for a job arranged by his sister?

"I must be crazy," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's no way this will work."

It wasn't that he couldn't trust Niki. Though she was technically his stepsister, and ten years younger than him, he and Niki had been looking after each other since they were kids. When Niki's mother had left one deadbeat - Niki's father - for another - Matt's - she and her sister Jessica had moved in. By the time Jess began her pattern of disappearances a few years later, Matt and Niki had forged their own bond.

Together, they'd teamed up against the combined incompetence of their parents. They'd been a team ever since. If Niki had a job for him, a job that was better than the half-assed work he was getting in LA, Matt trusted her. He'd always trust her.

He just didn't trust his luck. Compared to him, Murphy was living up to his Irish heritage. In the last few years, Matt's marriage had collapsed, his partner had been investigated and charged by IA - thus tainting Matt as well - and his daughter had nearly died. At the rate he was going, he was all set to step out of his building to be hit by a falling piano.

Sighing again, Matt looked at the ties and picked out another one. "All that and you actually miss LA?" He shook his head. "Man, you've got to get your head on straight."

Not that it was actually the city he missed. Just the house. As much as he kept reminding himself the apartment was temporary, that the real estate agent was working on it, it was difficult to look around and not feel like a failure. The butter cream yellow of their living room in LA had been replaced by a water-stained blue in New York. Matt hated it. Molly deserved better than this place.

"Dad?" Molly called out. "You okay? You're gonna be late, the radio said traffic's terrible and – " she stopped in the doorway, smiling at him. "Oh god, Dad, you're not going to wear _that_ tie are you?"

Matt looked at the tie in his hand. "What's wrong with it?"

"Other than the fact it's so boring it'll put Mr. Petrelli into a coma?" Molly folded her arms, looking wiser than her ten years allowed. "Nothing."

"Ha, ha, ha," Matt said. "I'm not looking to give him a heart attack."

"No, but a little charge would do," Molly said, grinning. "Maybe he's single."

Matt groaned. "I can see having _that_ conversation with you was a mistake."

She giggled and bent over to pick up another tie. "This one."

Taking it, Matt held it up to his neck and looked at himself in the mirror. The white, grey and blue stripes went with the suit, but he wasn't so sure about the shirt. "I don't know, it doesn't look a little bright to you? It looks like it's clashing to me."

Molly stood in front of him, rolling her eyes. "_Dad_, you want to make a statement. You want them to remember you."

"No, I want them to _pay_ me," Matt said. "There's a drastic difference. I don't mind if I forget they ever met me just as long as I get paid."

Molly covered her face with one hand. "I give up," she said.

Laughing, Matt looked down at her. "Good, while you're wallowing in parental humiliation, you think you could help me tie this thing? I can never get the knot right."

"Nope," Molly said. "You strangle yourself."

Matt let her manhandle him into sitting on the edge of the bed. "For the record, my ties are not boring," he said as she got another one. This one was striped as well, but just navy and white with a wider pattern. "I just can't walk into a major corporation's headquarters wearing a Mickey Mouse tie."

"Sure you could," Molly said, going to work on the tie. "You just won't." She looked at him and smiled. "It's gonna be okay, Dad, you're gonna do great."

Matt looked at her, wondering when his little girl had gone from toddling to preteen and what it'd take to get those years back. "Aren't I supposed to be the one telling you that?"

"Sometimes," Molly said, yanking on the tie. Matt avoided yelping, but only just. "Look at it this way, my reassuring you is good for my social development. It lets me see my Dad as a real person and not just a puppet for all my needs and wants." She grinned perkily. "You don't want me to grow up maladjusted do you?"

"God no," Matt held up his hands, feigning horror. "Anything but that, please!" He paused, then added, "You been reading the dictionary in your spare time again?"

"Maybe a little," Molly said. "I may not be maladjusted, but I am a geek."

"That's my girl," Matt smiled.

*

Mohinder Suresh stomped into the elevator with all the maturity of a three-year-old. Inside, he slumped against the wall and stared moodily ahead, watching the doors close on his mother's dismayed expression. Deep down, he felt a twinge of regret for his display and buried it deeper. He wouldn't regret the argument, not after _that_ ultimatum. He couldn't regret it knowing what his father had asked of him.

"He's just concerned for you, Mohinder," he said, echoing his mother's words. "After all these years, he's come to accept your wishes." He snorted. "Acceptance, not bloody likely. His sudden change of heart isn't any such thing, he's _dying_ and I'm his only heir." He folded his arms and looked out through the elevator's glass walls at the city's skyline. "Chandra Suresh can accept many things if it means his precious hospital doesn't fall into the shareholders' hands."

He let his head thump back against the wall, frustration churning in his stomach. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what to _think_. His father's sudden about face was a complete reversal of everything that had passed between them for years. From the moment that his mother had stumbled across her teenaged son on the receiving end of his very first blowjob from his very first boyfriend, Mohinder's relationship with his father was gauged by the number of fights had in a day.

It had finally died when the parade of snake oil salesmen had begun, each of them peddling their different cures for Mohinder's 'condition'.

Mohinder had kissed his mother and moved out of the house; taking refuge with his boyfriend. A few years older than he, Mohinder's boyfriend had become his angel. It was Sean that had sat down with him and helped him with the loan and scholarship applications. From those applications, Mohinder's career had been born.

They were the very bedrock on which Mohinder's identity was built. He refused to allow that to be swept away by one pronouncement from on high.

Mohinder sighed, folding his arms across his chest. He'd _tried_ damn it. He'd tried to repair the relationship. Over the years, he'd sent cards and letters that full of subtle entreaties to open the lines of communication again.

They'd all fallen on deaf ears. He'd done everything he could to bridge the gap, save the one thing that his father wanted.

He'd refused to stop being who he was and that had finished it.

Until now. Mohinder muttered an oath. He pulled out his cell and punched in the number of his TA's cell. Waiting for the rings to go through, he paced the length of the elevator.

"The man expects me to get married!" he exploded the second Peter picked up.

There was a pause before Peter said, "You did remind him about the gay thing, right?"

"Nonsense, I waited until we'd begun picking out the china patterns. You can imagine the bride's surprise when her husband to be started flirting with the salesmen!" Mohinder said, snapping.

"Geez, Mohinder, take a pill, huh? You knew it was going to be something insane," Peter said. "Your father calls you up out of the blue wanting to talk? What were you expecting? Front row seats to the Chippendales?"

Mohinder stopped. "Well, actually -- "

"What?"

"What he had to say? Well, it was not tickets to the Chippendales, but it was not so far off." Mohinder sighed.

"Where are you?" Peter asked.

"Just leaving his hotel," Mohinder said, the elevator opening and admitting him into the lobby. "Downtown."

"You headed back here?"

"I have half a dozen papers left to review, a lecture to plan, and I left my laptop." Mohinder ducked out of the hotel and flagged down a cab.

"Okay," Peter said. "I'll have the coffee waiting when you get here. Extra Irish."

"Bless you," Mohinder said, and slid into the cab.

*

While Mohinder Suresh was one of the university's more popular professors, his office wasn't much. Tucked into a corner of a building, it did boast two 'sections' if one could call them that. Overtime, one section had become his 'office' while the other hosted his many books.

In theory, it did. In truth, the books and papers had long ago staged a coup. Refusing to stay in their area, they now spilled over nearly every available surface. The only the area free of the clutter was the space around his laptop. A near miss with a cup of coffee and an early morning run in with his desk had forced that particular spat of cleanliness.

Mohinder was rather attached to his laptop, particularly since he couldn't really afford to replace it. Cut off from his family's finances, his own were fairly constrained by his salary.

"Peter?" he called out, shucking out of his coat and dropping it atop his satchel. "Are you in here?"

"Back here," Peter said. He appeared with an armload of papers. "Bennet sends his regards."

"The man's attempting to bury me in reading," Mohinder complained.

"Yeah, well, you're the one who decided to marry genetics and philosophy," Peter said. His grin was bemused. "You're in a pretty specialized niche."

"Yes, I suppose I am," Mohinder said. "Where's the coffee?"

Peter nodded at the desk. "Fresh from that new coffee shop downstairs."

Mohinder smirked. "Yes, and how is Charlie today?" He watched his assistant flush. "Working, it seems."

"She's just a friend, Mohinder," Peter said, putting down the box. He presented the whiskey and passed it over. "She said that scholarship came through." He smiled. "Thanks."

"Bah, didn't do a thing," Mohinder sat down, stirring his coffee. "The committee saw her transcripts and almost fell over themselves." He smiled. "I just got to sit there and look superior."

"Which you're so good at anyway," Peter grabbed his own coffee and sat down. "So, what'd old man Suresh do that was so awful?"

Mohinder tensed, squeezing the coffee until some dribbled over the rim onto his hand. He swore and put down the cup, shaking off the hot liquid.

"That bad, huh?" Peter asked, his tone conversational as he sipped his coffee. "That bastard."

"You can at least pretend to be sympathetic," Mohinder said, knowing his complaint would fall on deaf ears. Peter's total disregard for his superiors was one of his more valuable skills.

"No, that'd just pad your ego," Peter smirked. "Last thing I want to do, considering it's healthy enough." He sat back, waving a hand at Mohinder. "Come on, out with it."

Mohinder sighed. "My father's decided he wants to change his mind."

"About what?"

"Me," Mohinder said. "He said he's been having 'second thoughts' for a while now. Second thoughts about how he treated me because of my 'lifestyle choices'." He couldn't stop the disdain that crept into his voice.

Peter's eyes widened. "So, what? He's okay with the gay thing now?"

"No," Mohinder said. "I don't think he's okay with 'the gay thing', but he does seem to be trying to convince me that he is." A little voice which sounded suspiciously like his mother disagreed vehemently, but Mohinder pushed it aside.

"Maybe he is," Peter said. "He's had a long time to think about it."

"A long time where spent refusing to speak to me, see me, or generally acknowledge he still has one surviving child." Mohinder swallowed a mouthful of coffee, using the time to gain control over the bitterness the subject always brought up. "I'm supposed to believe the man who wouldn't speak with me on the phone a year ago suddenly wants to watch me walk down the aisle with the man of my dreams before he dies?"

"Hang on," Peter sat up, nearly spilling his coffee. "He's _dying_?"

Mohinder nodded. "Cancer. He's had it for some time now. They suspected something was wrong, but he was too stubborn to have it checked out." He smiled faintly. "Bullheaded to the last."

"Apparently not," Peter said. "Mohinder, the man who practically disowned you says he wants to see you get married. To a _man_. You gotta admit, whatever his reasons, that is some pretty big progress right there."

"No, I don't have to admit it," Mohinder got up. "I don't _want_ to admit it." Which he didn't. He was still furious. He'd gotten comfortable in his righteous indignation. He _enjoyed_ being angry with his father. This new ground unsettled him. He didn't know where the stood anymore. "Besides, that's not the end of it."

"Okay, what is the end of it?" Peter asked, sounding annoyed. "Can't be all angry with him on your behalf if I don't know what I'm angry about."

"There's a certain contingency put on things." Mohinder turned. He perched himself on the end of his desk and stared at a water-spot above Peter's head. They really needed to repaint, university budget be damned. "I may be his only surviving heir, but if I _don't_ get married there are repercussions."

"Such as?"

"Such as his fortune will be divided among a number of charities, control of his research clinic will fall to its shareholders, and the patents that he holds will be held in trust to pay for the treatment of the clinic's patients." Mohinder didn't particularly know why he sounded so bitter. It wasn't as if he wanted a dime of the man's money. "All I'll get is the honor of dispensing with his ashes."

Peter whistled. "So, if you _do_ get married -- "

"For love," Mohinder said.

"Huh?"

"I must marry for love." Mohinder shrugged. "If I don't marry a man I love, then the will proceeds as if I'd never married at all."

"But if you do marry for love -- "

"The whole lock, stock, and barrel of it all will be mine to do with as I please."

Peter whistled. "Man doesn't do anything halfway, does he?"

*

Niki was waiting when Matt walked into the lobby of Petrelli Towers. Dressed in a pinstripe suit, she looked like a million bucks standing amidst the lush opulence of the lobby.

She looked like she belonged. Hell, in her brother's opinion, she looked like she should be running the place. Unlike Matt. He'd never felt more out of place walking across the gleaming wooden floors, past the leather sofas and designer-clad business executives.

"I feel like I'm in a Cary Grant movie," he said, reaching out to hug her. "This place is like something out of one of his movies."

She laughed and he knew she was remembering the rainy afternoons they'd spent watching old black and white movies on a busted old TV he'd fixed. "Thank Mrs. Petrelli," she said, hooking arms with him. "Wait until you get to see her in action. She's a force of nature." She paused, then smirked. "A very _cold_ force of nature. No way was her husband's business going to look like anybody else's. She just wouldn't have it."

"I'm gonna be scared as hell of her, aren't I?"

"Yeah, probably," Niki squeezed his arm. "Don't worry, so are we. She's not happy if we're not all quaking in fear." She leaned against him, reaching out to hit the elevator call button. "God, Matt, it's going to be so good having you and Molly in town. You have no idea how excited Micah is."

"Oh I have a pretty good idea," Matt said, smiling. "Half as excited as Molly is. I practically had to tie her to her bed to get her to sleep last night." They stepped into the elevator together and he tugged on his tie. "Are you sure about this, Nik? I mean, _me_ working in a place like this?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said. "If an ex-Vegas showgirl can end up running PR for this place? You'll be fine, I promise. Besides," she winked, "none of us really fit in here. We just fake it. It's the beauty of the business."

"Oh well then," he said. "I'll fit right in then."

Niki smiled, leaning back against the elevator wall. "Exactly." She poked him. "Trust your sister. I'm always right. Just ask DL."

"A saint," Matt said. "Your husband is a saint." He looked over his shoulder, winking at her.

She winked back. "Don't make me kill you, big brother."

*

Niki had barely escorted Matt into his office before a young black woman stuck her head into the room, smiling brightly. "Mr. Parkman?"

"Yes, that's me," Matt nodded.

"I'm Monica Dawson, Mr. Petrelli's executive assistant." She reached out to shake his hand. "Mr. Petrelli'd like to talk to you about a private matter."

Matt stopped, looking at her. "You look familiar."

"Should," Monica said, her eyes twinkling. "You met me at Niki and DL's wedding."

"RIGHT!" Matt snapped his fingers. "There an employee bonus for hiring family?" he asked, looking at Niki.

"Nathan needed an executive assistant, someone scary organized, he asked me if I knew somebody." Niki pointed at Monica. "Scariest, most organized woman I've ever met."

Monica laughed. "It was supposed to be a summer gig, pay for college and all that." She bustled Matt out the door as she spoke, "Thing is, Mr. Petrelli pays _good_. So good, I'd be insane to quit to go back to school. I shifted my studying to online and stayed on. It's hectic, but -- "

"Scary organized," Matt tipped his head, nodding.

"You know it," Monica said. She led him through a maze of immaculately decorated hallways - Mrs. Petrelli's work again - and then stopped him before two massive doors. "This would be it."

"Not that big on subtlety, huh?" Matt looked up at the doors.

"Nope," Monica said. "It scares the pants off the people he negotiates with, so we're all good with it." She knocked on the door then swung it open. "Mr. Petrelli? Mr. Parkman's here."

Matt heard a muffled comment and then she pulled back out. "Go on in."

"If he kills me, tell Molly to play nice with Micah, okay?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Get in there before I kill you for real," Monica said, laughing. She pushed him inside and then closed the doors behind him.

That left Matt standing just inside a massive office. He was pretty sure it ran almost the length of the building. In a glance he saw a executive table, a sitting area, a _bar_? This wasn't an office, it was an apartment incognito.

Good grief.

He walked further into the room, heading toward the desk. If the rule was no one fit in, but everyone pretended to fit in, then Nathan Petrelli was the exception. He seemed perfectly attuned to his surroundings. Sitting at a massive desk, his crisp white shirt fashionably rumbled (Matt suspected there was a professional Petrelli rumpler on staff somewhere), Nathan looked up at him. "Parkman, right?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "I mean, yes sir."

Nathan waved it off. "No need to stand on ceremony here, in fact I'm hoping you don't." He gestured to the chairs before him. "Have a seat. There's something I want to talk with you about." He scribbled a pen across the page before him, the quick, firm movement probably his signature. He repeated the process, almost confirming it for him.

Matt sat down, watching him. For a moment he wished he could see into the man's head and know what the hell was going on. The atmosphere of the room was hard to read and he had a feeling Nathan Petrelli liked it that way. Forcing himself to relax in the chair, he folded his hands and waited him out.

Finally, Nathan looked up. His smile was minute as he said. "Settling in okay?"

"Pretty much, yes," Matt nodded. "Just got here though. So, mostly right now I'm just awed by the architecture and hoping I don't get lost on my way to the bathroom."

"Still working on that one myself," Nathan said. He leaned back in his chair and nodded at a picture frame. "Take a look." He waited until Matt picked it up. It was obviously a family photo with Nathan and a younger, dark-haired man flanking an older woman. Tucked against Nathan's side was a slim woman and two young boys. Cute family if you ignored the frosty look on Mama Petrelli's face. Matt thought he could get a chill from just looking at her.

"Beautiful family," he said.

Nathan chuckled. "Ignore Ma, she's mad enough to kill in that shot. My kid brother picked a fight right before they took the picture."

Matt grinned. "So the brother - "

"Peter," Nathan said. "Skinny with the floppy hair. That's him. He gets such a charge out of annoying Ma." He straightened up, concern on his face. "I need you to keep an eye on him, but I need you to do it quietly."

"Something going on?"

"Sort of." Nathan frowned. "Part of Pete's campaign to drive Ma nuts is college. He's determined to get a philosophy doctorate or something. He's studying over at NYU. He's going as slow as humanly possible, but he's going."

"Doing the whole finding himself thing?" Matt asked, thinking of Jess. "Got a similar problem with my stepsister."

"Yeah, Jessica," Nathan nodded. "Niki's mentioned her. Peter's not exactly in Jessica's league, yet, but that's not the problem." He got up and walked to the window. "My Dad built this company, but when he started, he had a partner. Mr. Linderman."

Matt turned, surprised. "Linderman as in Linderman and Associates? Home of crooked senators, congressmen, and Satan's favorite executives?"

"The one and only," Nathan said. "He and Dad had a falling out. Mostly on account of the fact Dad had a conscience and Linderman didn't." He turned, looking at Matt. "Never been able to prove it, but I'm pretty sure Dad's heart attack was anything but. Spent the last few years staying the hell away from the man."

"That's changing?"

"Not by my choice," Nathan said. "Lately every single time I turn around, we're tripping over them. Every contract our divisions chase, Linderman's right there, and it's getting personal. I've been followed, my wife's been followed, we've had strange phone calls, all that. I've got people on our side of it, but I'm still worried about Pete. Every time I try to put security on him, it turns into a thing. He's hell-bent on fitting in at school and being special for him. All the usual college kid crap." He sighed, frustrated.

"I don't have the time, or the patience, to put up with it anymore. I keep picturing Ma having to identify his body because Pete's having an identity crisis and I get pissed off." Nathan returned to his chair, sitting down. "Which is where you come in."

"No way Peter will accept me as a bodyguard, so I have to do it on the down low," Matt said.

"Exactly," Nathan flashed a grin at him. "You up for the challenge? It's more money, better hours, and very few ties."

"My daughter will be crushed," Matt joked.

"We'll throw a big company party, make it up to her," Nathan said. Matt couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "Obviously, we can't slip you in as a student. That'd raise too many question, but I did talk to the Dean. Niki mentioned you were dyslexic?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. Not entirely sure how that fit into things.

"Which means you're familiar with most of the coping mechanisms," Nathan said. "The Dean's willing to slip you into the faculty as a counselor for kids with similar problems. He's even managed to arrange office space right across the hall from Pete's boss. What do you think?"

"I think it's probably going to blow up in my face," Matt said. He grinned. "Might as well light the match and get it over with."

*

"I have no idea how to do this," Mohinder said, looking back at the box with legs teetering toward him. "I really don't think that a dating service is the solution to my problem, Peter."

The box grunted and then slid down to reveal Peter's face. "Well, you said the same thing about speed dating. It's one or the other. man. No way I'm turning you loose in a gay bar. That's a Saturday Night Live skit waiting to happen, not one of the good ones either." He hitched a hip up on the desk, looking down at the computer. "Say, you hear who snagged the office space across the hall? There's like an army of painters over there now. I mean an army too, never noticed how huge those rooms are." He flicked Mohinder. "How come you didn't flirt your way into them?"

"I'm not that cheap," Mohinder said with a sniff.

"I've seen you eat," Peter said. "Yeah, you are."

"And Saturday Night Live?" Mohinder asked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, come on, Mohinder, don't give me that face. You know what I'm talking about. You're seriously the most boring gay man in _history_. Gay Neanderthals got more play." He snorted. "_Richard Simmons_ gets more play." He got up, heading back to the box to unpack it. He paused, shaking a book at Mohinder. "You've got to get up and do something about this, y'know. Mr. Right's not going to just walk up and introduce himself."

Mohinder turned, opening his mouth to argue. A quick rap on the door changed that plan. "It's open," he called out instead.

"Great," someone said and the door swung inward.

"You can't possibly be serious," Peter said, his eyes wide with shock.

The dark-haired man in the doorway looked at him, confused. "I'm sorry? Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no," Mohinder shook his head. "Please come in."

"Great," the man said, smiling brightly at him. He had the most amazing smile Mohinder had ever seen. Not that he could determine what was so compelling about it, he just knew that it was.

"I'm Peter Petrelli," Peter said, stepping forward. "The guy with his mouth hanging open is Mohinder Suresh. Were you looking for someone?" He tossed a look Mohinder's way.

If Mohinder weren't semi-oblivious, he might have thought to look back. Perhaps say something caustic. As it was, all he did was stare. Their visitor wasn't what people considered traditionally handsome, his features a little too round and his body a little too soft to qualify, but that didn't matter. Something about him meant Mohinder couldn't tear his gaze away.

"I'm Matt," Mohinder's new interest said. "Matt Parker. I'm moving in across the hall and thought I'd drop in and say hello. Meet the neighbors." He stepped farther into the office, holding out a hand in Mohinder's direction.

Mohinder looked at that hand and found himself picturing it on his body. He could almost feel the calloused palm sliding over his skin, raising goose flesh in its wake. He shifted from one foot to the other, surprised by his body's reaction. There was nothing overtly erotic about Matt Parker's appearance, but he found himself turned on just the same. So much so that it was difficult to concentrate on the conversation.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Suresh," Matt said, smiling.

*

Oh, _fuck_, Peter's boss was hot. Seriously hot. Those were the kinds of looks that stopped traffic, transcended orientation, and got guys like Matt in serious trouble. Sweating bullets, Matt tried frantically to think of what to do next. The only thing which came to mind was strangling Nathan Petrelli, and he didn't think that would put him on the fast track to promotion. It would make him feel better, but he had to admit it would make him feel a whole lot better. When Mr. Petrelli had said his brother worked for a professor, he'd been picturing some aged little old man with thick glasses.

That was definitely _not_ what he'd gotten. Nathan had conveniently left out the part where Mohinder Suresh redefined the meaning of gorgeous.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Dr. Suresh reached out slowly to take the hand that Matt was offering. His fingers brushed Matt's and something in Matt tightened with promise. Arousal surged through him hot on the heels of that promise and he swallowed heavily. This was not good, not good at all. He was not here to ogle a hot university professor. The reason he was here stood just behind Suresh, watching the prolonged handshake with a smirk.

Blushing at being caught, Matt let go of the professor's hand. "The university hired me as a counselor. Students with learning disabilities." He shrugged, regretting the cover story as soon as it was out. It had sounded better in the safety of Nathan Petrelli's office. Here it sounded entirely lame. "Doubt our paths will cross much, but you never know."

"You never do," Dr. Suresh nodded. "Please, anything that you need – "

"Just give us a shout," Peter said. "Mohinder's door is always open if you need a hand."

Matt's gaze dropped involuntarily to those hands. Slender, nimble fingers that would look perfect wrapped around his –

He jerked back up to meet Dr. Suresh's gaze. He was not going to think about that, he was not going to think about that, he was not going to think about that. Thinking about _that_ was not a good idea right now. Not when his jeans weren't much of an obstruction for his growing erection.

"I should probably go," he said, backing up. The door was back there somewhere, he knew it was. You know how it is, there's always furniture to move, students to talk to, and professors to aggravate."

"I look forward to being aggravated," Dr. Suresh said, a small smile curving his lips. God, Matt wanted to kiss him.

He closed his eyes momentarily. "That came out wrong," he said. "I mean, I look forward to working with you should the occasion rise." Matt swallowed. Oh that wasn't the wrong thing to say at all. "I'll talk to you later."

An occasion he was now dreading with a level of anxiety normally reserved for principals and dentists.

"Welcome to NYU," Peter said, waving cheerfully.

Matt stumbled out through the door, closing it behind him. "God, I am an idiot," he said, pressing his face into his palm. "Huge, huge idiot."

*

"You know," Peter said, "I think he likes you." He went back to work. "He's cute."

Mohinder heard the insinuation loud and clear, rounding on him. "Oh, no, Peter, absolutely not. You are _not_ going to draw that poor man into this."

Peter smirked. "I don't think I have to draw him anywhere. The way he was staring at you – "

Hope flared in Mohinder's chest. "He was staring at me? Really?" He looked back at the door, remembering the adorable look on his face as Matthew had walked through it. "Are you sure?"

"Believe me, I'm sure." Peter said. "He was staring at you like a little kid staring at a lollipop." His smirk widened. "Not to mention when he checked you out."

"Checked – " Mohinder's face heated when Peter nodded meaningfully. He looked away. "Oh my," he said, trying to recall the moment Matthew's eyes had dropped from his face. He closed his eyes when he remembered the moment and the way Matthew's eyes had darkened. It was an undeniable look of want and Mohinder hardened thinking about it. "He did."

Peter groaned. "You are the worst gay man in history, Mohinder. Seriously the worst. Have you ever actually _had_ sex?"

Mohinder rolled his eyes. "Of course I've had sex, Peter. I'm hardly a blushing virgin, you know." He sat down at the computer. "I've just been a little pre-occupied as of late."

"Well, it's time to get pre-occupied with something else," Peter said. He leaned in, catching Mohinder's gaze. "Preferably, get pre-occupied with the guy across the hall. Dimples, cute, and _normal_. In this city, that's a rare combination, don't knock it. Ask the guy out, what's the harm?"

Mohinder looked at him. "Have you even bothered to read the university's policies on sexual harassment?"

"Yes. Apparently you haven't," Peter said. "You're both on staff, in completely different departments, and he's not even a professor. You're two consenting adults, Mohinder, so consent already." He lifted more books from the box. "If you're going to find a husband in time, you've got to get moving. The least you can do is ask Matt out for coffee or something."

Mohinder rubbed the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder at the door. "I'm not sure I want to, Peter," he admitted. His anger towards his father resurfaced and he gritted his teeth. "I know that I don't," he said. "Not like this."

"It doesn't have to be coffee," Peter said. He took the books in his arms to the already-full shelves and looked for a place to put them. "But don't try and fool yourself into thinking you don't want to ask him out, Mohinder. I have eyes. You were _definitely_ interested."

"Oh, I'm definitely interested in Matthew," Mohinder said, surprised at how easily he made the admission. "That isn't what I meant."

"Then what is it?"

"This ultimatum of my father's," Mohinder leaned back in his chair, staring at the water stain on the ceiling. "I haven't needed his approval in years; why would I be worried about it now?" he asked. "I don't need his money, either."

Peter snorted. "I've seen your bills, Mohinder, yeah, you need it." He turned around. "But that's not the point here. The point is that after all these years, your Dad is happy with who you are and wants to see _you_ happy before he dies." He walked back to the pile of books, looking for more. "Do you really want to deny him that chance?"

"Yes," Mohinder said, then shook his head. "No. I – Oh, Peter, this is not what I'd envisioned for my future."

Peter snorted. "When is life ever what we want it to be?"

"Is that your idea of comfort?" Mohinder asked, raising an eyebrow. "If so, I have to tell you, Peter, it's in dire need of some practice."

"Pretty much," Peter said, his grin returning. "You don't need me to hold your hand, Mohinder. You're a big boy. What you need is a kick in the ass." He shook a book at Mohinder as he passed. "And that is what the university pays me to do anyway, so really, it's all in a day's work for me."

Mohinder frowned. "Peter -- "

"Mohinder," Peter looked at him. "He's cute, he has a pulse, and he's interested in you. Don't knock it, okay? Ask the man out and have done with it. The clock's ticking."

Mohinder wanted to say, "So what if it is?" but he couldn't form the words. Instead, he looked at his computer and sighed.

"Right," he said. "The clock is ticking."

*

"So, how goes the babysitting?" Niki asked, pulling off her sunglasses. She sat down and grinned at Matt. "You this office is actually pretty sweet. I was expecting something a little more closet-like. I take it, the university's going all out, huh?" She winked. "Must be the Petrelli money."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Well, y'know, it's not as good as the one over at Petrelli Towers, but I'm making do." He nodded toward the door. "You can't beat the view."

His sister's grin widened. "Yeah, I saw the professor on my way in. _That_, big brother, is a beautiful man." She twirled her glasses lazily. "Just don't tell DL I said so."

"Promise," Matt said. "Besides, he's not your type."

"Mmm, more like I'm not his," Niki said. "The company's file on him says he's gay." She leaned forward. "Did you ask him out yet?"

"NIK!" Matt gaped. "Are you crazy? I'm _undercover_. Dating Peter's boss would be a little bit of a risk, don't you think?"

"Mmm, not so much." Niki shook her head. "You need to stick close to Peter and there's only so many times that you can use 'can I borrow a pencil' before they start getting suspicious. You and Mohinder hook up and you've got all the reasons you need to hang out in his office. Occasionally, maybe grope the boss a little."

Matt made a face, and then looked out the window to watch Peter put an armload of books into his faded orange Datsun. "I'm not comfortable using Mohinder like that."

"Who's using?" Niki asked. "Do you have a thing for this guy or not?"

He sighed. "Yes, I do."

"Good, then it's not using him. It's getting close to him. This assignment is temporary, Matt. Just as soon as the Linderman situation is handled, you can tell Mohinder everything about who you really are." She shrugged. "Besides, the only part you won't be telling him is the part where you're protecting Peter. He'll understand that. We've been through this song and dance before, Mohinder's seen first hand the kind of hell that Peter puts his bodyguards through. If he can't understand why Nathan forced you to keep it a secret, then he's not worth it."

Matt laughed. "Right, sure he'll understand." He got up. "The whole thing, excuse the pun, is academic anyway. You're acting like me hooking up with Mohinder is a foregone conclusion."

Niki smiled. "It is. I know you, remember?"

*

Peter waited. Mohinder knew he was waiting, but ignored him. At least, he tried to ignore him. Peter's meaningful looks whenever Matt dropped by, his coughed words, and amused grins were beginning to drive Mohinder crazy.

Still, he said nothing. He resolutely ignored Peter's insinuations. He was polite with Matthew, charming and nice, but he never let himself follow through to the next step.

Every time that he thought he might, he couldn't say it. He'd tried to ask a hundred times and, every time, he backed down.

Matt dropped by almost every morning. This morning, he was late. Peter caught Mohinder giving the clock a supicious look and snickered. "Mohinder."

"What?" Mohinder looked at him innocently. "Is something wrong, Peter?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Peter said. "Well, nothing but the fact my boss is a fucking baby."

"I beg your pardon?" Mohinder said.

"You heard me." Peter leaned on his desk. "How hard is it to ask a guy out for coffee? It's one sentence, Mohinder, and it's not that difficult. You open your mouth, you string together a few letters into a few words, he says yes, and you both drink cups of coffee. If it goes really well, you upgrade to dinner. At some point, someone will probably get naked. If you're really luck, it's going to be both of you."

"And if not?"

"No coffee, no dinner, no happy special time with Mini-Mohinder, and definitely no wedding bells," Peter looked disgusted. "You're a fucking baby, Mohinder."

Mohinder sat back. "You wouldn't say so if you were in my shoes."

"If I were in your shoes, I'd be bent over that desk, screaming something very creative right now." Peter leered. "I wouldn't be alone either."

"Oh, be quiet," Mohinder said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm working as fast as I can."

"At the rate you're going, you're going to be an old maid. That takes talent considering they haven't even legalized gay marriage here yet." Peter's expression softened. "You really like this guy, huh?"

Mohinder sighed, nodding miserably.

"Okay, so why?" Peter asked.

"Why?"

"Yes, why?" Peter repeated. "What is it about _this guy_ that's got you so -- more you than usual?"

"I don't think I can explain it," Mohinder said. "There's no one thing about him that I can point to as _the_ reason. All I can say, Peter, is that when Matthew's around everything _works_. As if everything around me just exists until he walks through the door and everything comes alive." He smiled and shook his head. "I really can't describe it."

Peter smiled, getting up from his chair. "You don't have to, that look on your face does it." He patted Mohinder on the shoulder. "You want my honest opinion?" He leaned down to whisper into Mohinder's ear, "You're falling in love with him."

Stunned, Mohinder said nothing. Peter just straightened up and left the room. "I've got a class. Try not to implode while I'm gone."

*

"So, how's it going?" Nathan asked.

His cellphone to his ear, Matt kneed open the door to Mohinder's office and smiled a hello at the professor. "Great, great, settling in nicely."

"Peter suspect anything?"

"Not that I can tell, no," Matt said. He put the coffee tray down on a desk. Pulling out the chai tea he took Mohinder's hand and wrapped it around the cup. "Everything's been going surprisingly well."

"Meaning you're sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop?" Nathan sounded distracted and Matt heard the shuffling of paper.

"Essentially, but I'm hoping to avoid that." Matt put Peter's coffee on his desk. "Cross your fingers."

"Good, so I can expect another weekly report tomorrow?" Nathan asked.

"Yes, definitely," Matt said. "How goes your situation?"

"Linderman's...Linderman," Nathan said with a sigh. "I'm working on it. So far he doesn't seem to be interested in Peter, but -- "

"You can never be too careful, I know," Matt agreed. "And he's just a kid." He rolled his eyes at Mohinder. Mohinder responded with a snicker and a sympathetic look.

About a week after Matt had arrived, Mohinder had wandered into his office while Matt was in the midst of a phone call with Nathan. It had nearly gone very badly, but Matt's fancy footwork had helped him avoid disaster. As far as Mohinder knew, he was on the phone with his other stepsister Jessica.

Matt felt guilty, but he figured after all the shit Jess had pulled, she owed him this one.

"Talk to you then," Nathan said, and hung up.

Matt tucked the phone away and grabbed his coffee. "Tell me again why I shouldn't just change my phone number and disappear?"

"Because she's your sister, you love her, and you're a good brother," Mohinder dutifully said. "Everything's well with her though?"

"As well as can be expected." Truthfullly, Matt had no idea what was going on with Jess. She didn't call, she didn't write, and she didn't seem to care. He tried to track her down through friends still on the force from time to time, but no luck so far.

Matt looked at Mohinder. "How's the tea?" he asked.

Mohinder gave it a sip, and smiled. "Good," he said. He went back to work then, the academic in him unable to resist his reading for one more minute.

That was fine by Matt. He slumped in his chair with his coffee and settled in to watch Mohinder work.

*

As much as Mohinder tried to avoid it, the idea of marrying Matthew had taken root. No amount of distraction could rid him of it. Every time that he closed his eyes, he was presented with a new image of Matthew, each one more domestic than the last.

And worse of all, Matthew wasn't doing anything to dissuade him. He did everything from bring them coffee 'just because', to checking in and making sure Mohinder was eating regularly. Mohinder was beginning to wake up, expecting to find Matthew there making breakfast.

He'd never eaten an Eggo waffle in his life, but Mohinder swore he woke to the scent of them every morning. If it weren't for the fact he saw Matthew eating one on his way into the office one morning, Mohinder might have thought he was going crazy.

As it was, he was only slightly obsessed. Which, of course, was not nearly so worrisome.

*

"Have dinner with me," he blurted. He regretted the words as soon as they were out, but he couldn't take them back. Matt had heard them and was looking up from the mass of paperwork that had overtaken his desk. "You must be famished," he added, well aware that he was verging on the edge of babbling. "You haven't left your office all day and those pretzels you insist on eating do not count as actual food."

"They are food," Matt protested. "There's bread and salt. They're part of the food groups."

"They surrendered any right they had to be called food the moment they reached a state in which they can survive a nuclear holocaust," Mohinder said.

Matt frowned, sitting back in his chair. The old wooden contraption creaked in protest as he stretched, rubbing his hands over his face. "I've been swamped all day," he said. "Appointment after appointment. Who knew there were these many kids all wanting help 'right the hell now'." He groaned, looking at the clock. "God, is that the time?"

"Yes, unfortunately, it is," Mohinder agreed. "You missed dinner."

"Lunch too," Matt confessed, scratching his jaw. The action drew Mohinder's eye to the five o'clock shadow there and his fingers itched to touch it. "I got caught up."

"Then come on," Mohinder said, bolstered. "You can't argue with me if you haven't eaten since _breakfast_. You need to eat, and I need your company." He grabbed Matt's coat, holding it out. "I'm buying."

"Well, when you put it like that," Matt hopped up, "how can I refuse?"

Mohinder helped him with the coat, sliding it over his arms. His hands skimmed Matt's shoulders as he pulled it on and he had to fight to keep the smile from his face. "You can't," he said. "That's why I offered."

Matt laughed, returning the favor by opening the door for him.

Mohinder brushed past him, deliberately a step too close. "I was a mafia don in a previous life," he said, grinning. A little giddy with triumph, he led the way into the hall. "No one refuses me now."

"I can tell," Matt commented. "What with that commanding presence of yours."

Mohinder looked back at him. "You said, yes, didn't you?"

"Starvation," Matt said. He winked. "It'll make a man do many crazy things."


	2. Chapter 2

The chill of the winter air met them when they walked out into the New York evening. Matt shivered automatically, pulling his coat tighter around his neck. "God, it's freezing out here."

"You'll adjust," Mohinder said. "I did and I was convinced I never would."

"Well, LA's not exactly India," Matt said. "So I haven't got a lot of complaining to do." He grinned. "Besides, I've got plenty of insulation." He patted himself. "Molly's just skin and bones. She's going through another growth spurt."

"Your family made the move with you then?" Mohinder asked. Matt thought he heard a trace of disappointment. "How are they adjusting?"

"My ex-wife isn't, she stayed in California after the divorce and remarried," Matt said. "My daughter Molly and I, we wanted a change, so we came out here. My sister and her husband live in the city." He produced a picture of Molly, passing it to Mohinder. "She's a good kid. She just rolls with whatever gets thrown at her and keeps on going."

"I take it that she's had plenty of opportunity to practice that skill?" Mohinder asked, his voice unfailingly polite, something Matt appreciated.

"Too much, lately," Matt said with a sigh. "It's been a complicated few years."

"I'm sorry," Mohinder said gently. He brushed a hand against Matt's back, the gesture clearly meant to be soothing. Matt could barely feel it through the thickness of his coat, but his body reacted just the same. As strongly as if it had been bare skin Mohinder touched. "I know I have no business asking such a question."

Matt looked away, guilt reddening his cheeks. "It's all right," he said. "I want to tell you, it's important to me that I do." With all the secrets that Matt was keeping from him, telling Mohinder something private like this seemed only fair. "Janice and I had been having problems for a while. She'd had an affair. We were working on it, but she just couldn't seem to get past the fact that I'd been faithful when she hadn't. She kept seeing things between me and other people that weren't there. The last straw came when she mistook a situation with Molly's piano teacher for more than it was."

"Guilt can be blinding," Mohinder said. "We tend to externalize our own issues and project them onto others. It's a defense mechanism, I believe, to convince ourselves we're no worse than they are."

Matt thought back to those days. "Could be." He smiled wryly. "God knows, Jason was hot." He caught the double take from Mohinder and chuckled. "Yes, Molly's piano teacher was a man."

Mohinder's footsteps faltered as he took it in. "So you're bisexual?" he asked. His question was almost nervous and Matt felt his own unease. Not so much with the subject matter, just the sudden look of something in Mohinder's eyes. Matt was hesitant to name it, but he thought it might be hope. Might be.

"I am," Matt said. "It's a shock, I know, finding out we exist, but we do." He grinned. "Kidding. That's an old joke of mine."

"So, was your bisexuality -- " Mohinder stopped, as if reconsidering, and then tried again. "Was your bisexuality the reason for the divorce?"

"No, Janice was fine with it," Matt said. "The marriage really did fall apart because of the same old problems. Don't get me wrong, Janice is a great woman. Our marriage ending wasn't her fault. She's happier now and I'd like to say the same thing about me and Molly. Everything's really good with us."

"Except?" Mohinder asked.

"Except our apartment," Matt shuddered. "I don't know how New Yorkers stand it. We've got a real estate agent looking, but -- "

"The apartment is barely habitable?" Mohinder asked, nodding. "Yes, I quite understand that. My first few apartments in the city were utter chaos. Finding a suitable apartment is difficult enough when you're on your own, but with a child..." he stopped, looking more nervous than before. "If it's truly that bad, Matthew, there's more than enough room at my loft for you both. Feel free to stay with me until your real estate agent finds something more appropriate."

Matt blinked. "Mohinder, are you trying to invite me back to your place?"

"Well, I would hope you'd bring your daughter along," Mohinder said, with a chuckle. "But yes, I am." He leaned in. "I know for a fact that it happens to be in a good district for school. Wonderful afterschool programs."

"I could kiss you right now," Matt said, wishing desperately that he knew what was going on behind Mohinder's friendly smile. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept moving toward the car. "Seriously."

"Seriously?" Mohinder stopped him with a hand against his chest.

Matt's hands slipped free of his pockets and he stared silently at Mohinder. He had the sense that something between them had changed. Watching Mohinder, he wondered if maybe Niki had been right all along.

She was going to be insufferably pleased with herself if she was. Seriously.

Mohinder moved closer. It was a single step, but that step covered so much distance. To Matt, it felt like Mohinder crossed the world with that single step.

"Mohinder," he said, his breath clouding the air between them.

Smiling, Mohinder reached up with a kind of reverence. He slid his gloved hand across Matt's shoulder to cup the back of his neck. The silence of the snow-covered evening closed around them and Matt felt the world drop away.

Still not quite sure this was happening, he was content to let Mohinder set the pace as he drew their mouths together.

The first brush of their lips was tentative as they took the measure of each other. Mohinder's lips were cool against his, chapped by the cool breeze, but Matt couldn't get enough. Kissing Mohinder, he couldn't forget what Niki had said. He wanted this. He wanted the man standing with him and he wanted him more than he'd wanted anyone in a very long time.

Mohinder made a greedy noise, pressing closer. His hands curled into the material of Matt's coat. Matt responded by winding Mohinder's scarf around his hands, holding him close. They stood in the parking lot, snow crunching beneath their feet, their breaths loud in each other's ears, and Matt felt like a fifteen year old kid. About to get caught by Mom and Dad making out on the porch.

He pulled back, rubbing noses with Mohinder. The delighted sound Mohinder made when he laughed warmed Matt all the way down to his toes. He repeated the action just to hear that sound one more time, grinning when Mohinder tipped his head back to laugh harder.

"Stop that," Mohinder said, breathless. "Behave when I kiss you."

"No," Matt said, impish. "It's more fun when I don't."

"Bah," Mohinder shook his head. "It's more fun _this_ way." He pressed his lips to Matt's again, the cool dryness of his lips a contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. When Mohinder kissed him, Matt would have agreed to anything. Holding Mohinder in his arms, Matt would have told him anything.

Mohinder kissed as if it were his last. As if, at any moment, he would be yanked away forever, and Matt let himself get caught up in the same.

He was in _so_ much trouble.

*

"So, let me get this straight," Peter said. Sitting down on Mohinder's couch, he put his feet up. "You finally work up the courage to ask the guy out for dinner. He says yes, but before you even get into your car, you ask him to move in. Yes?"

"Yes," Mohinder nodded. "That's exactly what I did." He dropped into an armchair. "Matthew was talking about his daughter and their apartment being deplorable. All I could think was the man was living in squalor. That would have been bad enough, but he was also trying to raise his daughter in the same conditions. The idea of leaving them there was just -- " he shrugged. "I was making the offer before I really realized what I was doing."

"And he said yes?" Peter asked.

"Yes. He did indeed say yes," Mohinder said. "But, it's a conditional yes." He paced the oak floor, staring down at it. Perhaps he shouldn't have had the floors waxed after all. Children did enjoy running. It would be a terribly bad accident should little Molly slip and fall. "Maybe I should get some rugs?" he asked without warning.

Fortunately, Peter was used to such random outbursts. "Yes," he said. "Matt said she's ten, Mohinder."

"And?"

"Ten year olds are actually pretty competent," Peter said. "I've got a feeling with a divorce, a bisexual dad, and a cross country move under her belt, Molly's a little more competent than most." He grinned. "The conditional part of the yes? Totally hinging on her opinion of you."

"A reminder that I truly did not need, Peter," Mohinder said. He looked at the kitchen. Maybe he should have just ordered pizza or McDonalds or something of that nature. She was ten and he doubted many ten year olds had a taste for Indian cooking. Well, outside of India at any rate.

"Stop it, Mohinder," Peter said. He put his feet down and sat up. "This is going to be fine. She'll show up, kick your tires a little, ask what your intentions are toward her Dad, and that'll be it. The loft's a foregone conclusion. If her apartment's really as bad as Matt implied? She'll take one look at this place and figure she's died and gone to heaven. If not? Just offer to buy her a playstation on the side. That'll win you major brownie points."

"With her, perhaps. I doubt Matt will be equally as pleased."

"Probably not," Peter said. "So, did you pick out the ring yet?"

"Ring?" Mohinder looked at him blankly. "Why would I -- " Peter grinned and it occurred to Mohinder just what he truly meant. "_No_, Peter, absolutely not. I am not proposing to the man just so I can inherit money!"

He'd actually managed to go for a few weeks without thinking of his father's decree. Now, Peter's reminder had handily introduced it back into his memory right when he needed it the least. "Really," he said in calmer tones. "This isn't about an inheritance."

And it wasn't. Mohinder didn't know what to tell his father, but it wasn't about the inheritance anymore. It wasn't even about his father's approval. The arrival of Matt Parker and his daughter had quite effectively blown Mohinder's carefully ordered world to pieces. He couldn't seem to remember which way was up anymore. The most alarming part of all was that he _liked_ it.

Which, he suspected, might have been what his father had been trying to get at all along.

"Nope, it's about you being in love," Peter said. "Mohinder, you're sitting in your apartment worrying about a _ten year old's_ opinion. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Mohinder pushed his hands into his hair and sighed. "I am doomed, Peter."

"I know," Peter said without sympathy. "Ain't love grand?"

*

On the way up in the elevator, Matt looked down at Molly. "Remember your manners, okay? We're just checking the place out." Checking the place out and fervently hoping his daughter would love it. Partly because Mohinder was right about the schools and partly because, well, _yes_. He was indeed falling in love with the man and the chance to be this close was one Matt desperately wanted to take.

Yeah, he was kind of pathetic about it, but he was okay with that.

"I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "For all we know, Dr. Suresh could be an axe murderer. You said that already."

He saw the mischievious look in her eyes, and couldn't help but play along. "_Molly_! Don't even think of saying anything like that to him, okay? He's doing us a major favor in letting us live with him for a while, so please do your best to be polite?"

She giggled. "I _know_, Dad," she said. "It's just fun teasing you."

"Mmhmm, well, go easy on your Dad's nerves, okay? Cut me some slack tonight? Mohinder's not used to having little girls around. Especially not little girls who like to freak well-meaning adults out." Matt fixed her ponytail. "And stop picking at your hair."

"I'm not picking at it!" Molly protested.

"Then why's it coming loose?"

"Cause you put too much hairspray _again_ and it's itchy," she looked up at him. "You really need to work on that."

He made a face at her. "It's not my fault the damn bottle keeps sticking."

"Language, Dad," she said. "We're going to dinner. You'd better be on your best behavior. I'm not going back to that apartment just because you can't mind your manners at the dinner table."

Matt rolled his eyes and kissed her on the forehead. "You're shameless."

"Uh huh, I get it from you." Molly looked at him. "Dad, why do we have to tell him our last name's Parker?"

"We don't have to _tell_ him," Matt said. "Just, uh, don't argue with him if he calls us that." He hated this part. It felt too much like making his daughter lie for him. "It's just that, right now, Mohinder thinks that's what my last name is."

"Because of work and Mr. Petrelli," she said.

"Right," Matt sighed. "I don't like it either, Mol, but Mr. Petrelli's younger brother works for Mohinder -- "

"And he's in trouble, and he won't let anybody help him, so this is the only way we can do it." Molly nodded. "I remember. I just think it's stupid."

Matt squeezed her shoulders. "You're not the only one, kiddo. Just cross your fingers that it'll be over soon and we can tell Mohinder everything."

"Okay," she said and that was the end of it.

Matt hoped.

*

Not long after Peter had left, the Parkers arrived. Mohinder watched them walk off the elevator, talking and laughing. Molly looked to be everything her father had proclaimed her to be and then some. The little girl took in her surroundings with an excited gaze and she said something to her Dad.

Something that made Matt nod and Mohinder's heart leap. He hadn't a clue what she'd said, but the expression on Matthew's face said all he needed to know. For that smile, Mohinder thought he might agree to anything.

He restrained himself long enough to wait for the knock on the door before he opened it.

"Evening, Mohinder," Matt said, resting his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "I think we're a little late."

"No, no, you're exactly on time," Mohinder said. He looked down at Molly with a smile. For a panicked moment, he had no idea what to say. What did one say to a little girl? He hadn't had much chance to research the conversational subjects popular among American school girls (for obvious reasons), and it was quite possible that he was overthinking it. "Would you like me to take your coat, Molly?"

She smiled, dimpling. "Yes, please." She handed it over. "Thank you very much, Dr. Suresh."

"Oh, no, none of that," Mohinder shook his head. "It's Mohinder or nothing." He stepped back. "Please, come on in." He gestured them inside. "Dinner's almost ready."

He looked at Matt, ready to ask if they'd need to order pizza, when Molly closed her eyes and took a big appreciative sniff. "Oh, that smells _good_," she said. "Kind of like home, Dad."

Mohinder's eyes widened and Matt grinned sheepishly. "There was this great Indian place a few blocks from our house in LA. For a while, when she was a kid, that was all Molly wanted to eat."

"You might have told me that," Mohinder said. "I spent half the evening in a blind panic."

Matt's grin widened. "Oops?"

"He does that," Molly said in lieu of apology. "If we move in, you're going to need a lot of post-it notes." She skipped down the steps into the main living area. "Can I go look at the bedrooms, Dr--- Mohinder," she blushed, catching herself. "If it's all right, I mean. I'd like to look around a little."

"Oh, please, feel free," Mohinder said.

She smiled brightly, scampering off to check out the back rooms.

"This place is amazing," Matt said, hanging up his own coat. "How can you afford this?"

Mohinder chuckled and headed for the kitchen. "By taking in one and a half roommates." He picked up a wooden spoon and opened a pot, stirring. "If, that is, Molly approves."

"DAD! You've got to see the bathroom!" Molly yelled. "It's _amazing_."

Matt leaned against the counter, watching Mohinder cook. "She approves," he said. "Watch her, she's a killer when she's negotiating. If you aren't careful, you'll end up sleeping on a sofa bed while she stakes out the best bedroom in the place."

"Oh, no worries," Mohinder said. He coughed, looking innocent. "I asked a decorator friend to take a look at Molly's room."

"You _cheated_?" Matt raised his eyebrows and then grinned. "I approve."

Mohinder stuck the wooden spoon at him. "Taste," he commanded. "What do you mean, you approve? I cheated, Matthew."

Matt smacked his lips together. "Oh god, that's fantastic. Molly will want to move in for the cooking alone." He stole another taste then leaned in to kiss Mohinder.

It was the first time that Matt had kissed Mohinder and not the other way around. Mohinder felt like dancing. He leaned in, brushing his lips against Matt's gently. At first, anyway, within minutes, he was pressed up against the kitchen counter with Matt Parker grinding into him.

In retrospect, he suspected it might have been a plan to arrange for a babysitter.

"DAD!" Molly called out and they broke apart, breathing heavily.

"Damn," Mohinder said.

"Double damn," Matt answered. "Get used to it. Her timing is _impeccable_." His hands rested lightly on Mohinder's shoulders as he turned his head. "Yeah, honey?"

"My bedroom's PERFECT!" Molly said. She paused, and then warily asked, "Are you guys having sex?"

Mohinder whimpered, hiding his face against Matt's shoulder. She absolutely had not asked that. No. He kept repeating it to himself. Molly was far too young to be concerned about things like sex. Absolutely. Particularly -- he whimpered again. Absolutely not.

Beneath his ear, he heard something that might have been a chuckle rumble its way through Matt's chest. "Are you laughing at me?" he protested.

"Just a little," Matt said. "She used to do the same thing to me and Janice." He ducked his head and Mohinder lifted his for the expected kiss. "She's okay with it, Mohinder. We've talked about it."

"You did not need to tell me that," Mohinder said. "It's just this side of slightly horrifying."

"You'll get used to it," Matt said.

Mohinder didn't think so, but he decided not to argue. If he did, Matthew might start reassuring him they wouldn't be there long. That wasn't wasn't quite something he was ready to hear.

"Get the plates," he said. "We need to get started on setting the table."

*

"So?" Matt asked, tucking Molly in.

She looked at him. "This isn't a temporary thing, is it?"

Sitting down on her bed, Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know, honey. Mohinder and I -- we care about each other, but it's new. It's _very_ new. Which means I don't know how it's going to go yet."

"Especially since you haven't told him about Peter yet," she said.

"Right, especially since I haven't told him about that," Matt said. "If it doesn't work out, honey, Mohinder's not going to throw us out. He's not that kind of man. When he offered, it was because I was talking about our apartment and how -- "

"Gross it is?" she interrupted.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Exactly." He kissed the top of her head. "Would you be happy if it turned into something more?"

"Uh huh," Molly nodded. "He's got Playstation." She snuck a grin up at him, then hugged him tight. "If you're happy, Dad, then I'm happy. Mohinder's nice," she said. "He doesn't talk to me like I'm a baby."

Which was a big thing, Matt knew, when you were ten years old and thought you were thirty. "True, he doesn't," he said. "Which was good."

"And he makes better curry than you do," she said. "Which is better."

"Oh sure, insult your Dad's cooking," Matt said, getting up. He tucked her in again. "I don't like lying to Mohinder either," he added, going back to their earlier conversation.

"If it gets serious," she pointed at him, "you've got to tell him the truth, okay? Promise me, Dad."

"I promise," Matt said. "If it gets serious I'll tell him. Now, go to sleep. Moving day tomorrow."

She nodded, closing her eyes. "Love you."

He smiled. "Love you more."

*

With Molly watching him from the door, Mohinder stirred dinner and hoped his hand wasn't shaking. It had seemed so simple two hours before, when Matt had complained about an evening meeting with the Dean. The words had slipped past Mohinder's lips before he'd realized what he was saying.

"Don't worry about Molly; I'll pick her up from your sister's and we'll have dinner together. It'll be fun."

Fun. Apparently, he'd gone and mistaken sheer terror for fun again. Odd how he kept doing that.

"The table's set," Molly said, her voice as cheerful as ever. There was, Mohinder thought, an undertone there that worried him. Something almost predatory. He gulped. "And my homework's done."

"What was it tonight?" he asked, leaning down to check the bread.

"Spelling," Molly said. Her disgust was no lie. Molly loathed and detested her spelling lists and made no secret of the fact. Mostly because she already knew how to spell most of them and thought it was insulting the teacher didn't know that. "They're all right, of course."

"Oh yes," Mohinder agreed. "Of course."

Molly came over then. "Mohinder, can I ask you something?"

He froze. There it was. The other shoe dropping. Praying to a few deities from his childhood, he looked down at her. "Of course, Molly. You can ask me anything, you know that."

She smirked. "Are you gonna marry my Dad?"

Mohinder choked. Except that. "I'm sorry?"

Smiling, Molly folded her arms. "Are you gonna marry my Dad? I know you're in love with him. No offense, Mohinder, but you're kinda obvious about that." She pointed to her eyes. "Moony-eyed and all that stuff. People in love get married. I know it's not _technically_ legal here yet, and stuff, but Canada's right next door. We can make it a weekend!"

"There are states in the US who also permit it, Molly," Mohinder pointed out, feeling absolutely insane to be doing so. "We could go there."

"AHA!" she shrieked. "So, you _are_!"

"So, he is what?" Matt asked, stopping behind her.

Molly looked up at him, grinning. "Nothing." She looked at Mohinder. "At least, not yet."

Mohinder gulped again. He was well and truly in for it now. He knew that look, he'd seen it before. That was the 'you hurt him; I hurt you' look.

"You're home sooner than expected," he said, recovering his voice. "Meeting let out early?"

"The Dean's furnace exploded," Matt said. "That kind of took precedence." He squeezed Molly's shoulders, looking down at her. "Homework done?"

"Uh, huh, but we haven't checked it yet," said Molly.

"I'll do it after dinner," Matt said. "Go wash up." As she scampered off, he crossed the kitchen to kiss Mohinder.

There were certain advantages to the domestic life Mohinder was coming to enjoy. Kisses hello ranked high on that growing list. He licked his lips as Matt pulled away. "Hello to you too," he said.

Matt brushed a finger over his lip, and then grinned. "Molly interrogating you about your intentions, huh?"

Face heating, Mohinder nodded. "You heard?"

"Yup, I got home five minutes ago," Matt smiled wickedly. "I wanted to hear what you said."

For that, Mohinder thought, smacking his hand with a wooden spoon was quite justified. He rather enjoyed the yelp. "Wash up for dinner," he said briskly. "Perhaps, if you're a very good boy who eats all his vegetables, we'll talk about my intentions." He let a gleam of mischief enter his gaze. "We may even do it naked."

Mohinder thought it worth noting that Matt set speed records getting to the bathroom.

*

Tucking Molly into bed that night, Matt kissed her forehead and then crept toward the door. His hand had just touched it when a sleepy voice called him back.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, honey?" he turned.

"Tell Mohinder he can marry you, if he wants," she said. "I like him."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, I like him too. Go to sleep, honey, we'll talk about this tomorrow." He flicked on her nightlight and stepped outside. He wasn't surprised to find Mohinder just happening by.

Reaching out, he hooked a finger in Mohinder's belt loop and stopped him. With a little grin, he leaned in. "She says you can marry me, if you want," he said.

Mohinder looked embarrassed, but also pleased. Very pleased. Kid on Christmas morning pleased and Matt's grin widened. "She did?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Matt nodded. "You talking marriage with my little girl?"

"More like the other way around," Mohinder said as Matt backed him against the wall. "Do you have any objections?"

"To the talk or to the proposal?" Matt asked, watching Mohinder's tongue sweep across his lip. He thought about chasing it with his own. It was a really good thought, so he did exactly that.

Mohinder's breath stuttered and his hands flailed about for a moment, but settled on Matt's hips. "Whichever you prefer."

"Well, it's a little sudden to be getting married," Matt said. "Plus, there's the part about it not being legal."

"Molly wants to go to Canada," Mohinder said. "Niagara Falls." He smiled, his fingers working their way beneath Matt's shirt. When those fingers touched bare skin, Matt shivered.

"Not only is my daughter a romantic, she's a cheesy romantic," Matt said.

"You must be so proud," Mohinder said.

"And then some," Matt nodded. He backed up, pulling Mohinder down the hall with him. "I think this is probably a discussion we should continue in your bedroom." He nodded at Mohinder's bedroom door. "You know, the one with the lock on it?"

"I've always loved that lock," Mohinder agreed, nodding.

"With good reason," Matt said.

They maneuvered their way into the room, shutting the door behind them. Matt pressed Mohinder up against the door and leaned past him. "Allow me," he said.

"My pleasure," Mohinder said.

Matt let out a little yelp when Mohinder followed up his comment by nipping at Matt's ear. Mohinder soothed the spot with his tongue, laving it gently, and making Matt groan.

"You are making it very hard -- "

"That's the point," Mohinder interrupted.

"No," Matt stopped him, grinning. "I do need to talk to you about something. I promised Molly I would." He tried to look serious as he ran his fingers down Mohinder's arms. "It's nothing _bad_, so don't panic. We're not moving out or anything."

"Oh, I hope not," Mohinder said. The fervency of his comment brought another smile to Matt's face. "If it isn't that, then what?"

Matt sighed. "Well, I sort of lied to you," he confessed. "It's not exactly a big lie, but it's not a small one either. I promised Molly that if things with us got serious, then I'd tell you before it went any further."

He looked back at the bed. "That's pretty serious, so, I'm telling you."

"Matthew, it can't be that bad," Mohinder said. He leaned forward, kissing him gently. "Come on, now, out with it."

"My last name is Parkman, not Parker, and I work for Peter's family's company," Matt said, blurting it out in a rush. "They've had some business dealings with an unscrupulous company lately -- "

"Oh, _Nathan_," Mohinder groaned, thumping his forehead against Mat's shoulder.

That was not the reaction Matt had been expecting. "Yeah, Nathan Petrelli. He's my boss. He's the one who arranged all of this."

"It does sound like one of his schemes," Mohinder said. He chuckled. "Peter will be furious with you, of course, but I suspect you know that."

"I kind of figured he would be," Matt said. "But you aren't?"

"The last time the Petrelli family had a problem, Peter refused any protection. He even refused campus security's assistance," Mohinder said. "He nearly had the life beaten out of him in the parking lot. Had it not been for a couple young Japanese students, he would've died." He shook his head, sliding his arms around Matt's neck. "I admire his determination, but his pride is going to get him killed."

He looked at Matt, eyes warm with desire, affection, and...

Matt stared at him. "I have another confession to make."

"_Another_ one?" Mohinder said. "Can't it wait? We keep making confessions, we'll have nothing left for pillow talk."

Matt smirked. "Shut up, you dork, I'm trying to tell you that I think I'm in love with you."

Matt watched Mohinder's eyes widen. "Oh," he said. "You do?"

"Uh huh," Matt nodded. "I do."

*  
Mohinder groaned. "Oh, _hell_," he said, sighing. "Did you have to say it like that?"

"Say it like what?" Matt asked, looking at him with confused eyes. "Mohinder? What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," Mohinder said. "Just my realizing that I'm not going to be having sex tonight."

"Why not?" Matt asked. His confusion transmuted itself into worry before Mohinder's eyes. "What's wrong?" His hands wrapped themselves around Mohinder's and held on.

Looking down at their joined hands, Mohinder smiled. "You're not the only one with a confession to make. It's actually a rather pathetic one. I wish that it had more of a dramatic feel to it, but you do need to know this. Otherwise, Peter may tell you in a fit of pique and you'll misunderstand everything."

Ordinarily, he wouldn't have worried about it, but Peter was likely to be very annoyed when he found out Matt's true identity. Mohinder was very fond of his friend, but he admitted that Peter could be - at times - prone to very rash actions. Actions like telling Matthew about Chandra Suresh's ultimatium in such a way that Matthew would be almost guaranteed to make the wrong assumption.

"What?"

"My father was never comfortable with my homosexuality," Mohinder said. He smiled bitterly. "Actually, he was quite the opposite. He all but disowned me over it. Up until a few weeks ago, we hadn't spoken in years."

"But something's changed?" Matt asked. He pulled Mohinder to the bed with him, sitting down.

"Yes, he's dying," Mohinder said. "Cancer. There's nothing that can be done, so he seems determined to get his affairs in order before the end." He sucked in a fortifying breath, before explaining, "My father is a wealthy man. He's informed me that he wishes me to be married, and has made it a condition of his will that I do so."

Matt's face darkened. "So, he's forcing you to -- "

"No!" Mohinder shook his head. "No, he isn't forcing me to marry a woman." He smiled ruefully. "That would almost be a kindness." He looked down at their joined hands again. "He's told me that unless I marry a man, for love, I'll inherit none of his fortune."

There was a long silence. At first, Mohinder thought Matt was just digesting what he'd been told. Mulling it over as he seemed to think about most everything.

But when he looked up, he was shocked to find Matt shaking with laughter. "MATTHEW!"

"I'm sorry," Matt sputtered, trying to stop. "I really am. It's just -- " he started laughing again. "The guy can't handle you being gay, but all of a sudden he decides that not only is he fine with it, but he wants you to get married!"

"It is rather ludicrous, I know," Mohinder said, chuckling. "I just didn't think it was all that funny."

"Oh, come on, Mohinder," Matt said. "Think about it for a minute. I mean, _really_ think about it. I'm pretending to be someone I'm not to protect someone who doesn't want protection, and you're being forced into a marriage you don't want, so that you can receive your inheritance. This scenario couldn't get any crazier if someone dropped us in the middle of a harlequin novel!"

Mohinder laughed. "You have a point there," he agreed. "This is somewhat improbable."

Matt grinned, pushing him backward onto the bed. "Somewhat? All we need is a Celine Dion soundtrack, and a painting of me as a pirate and you a wench with a heaving bosom to make it complete."

"A heaving bosom?" Mohinder echoed, looking up at Matt. He smiled, reaching for Matt's belt. "I'm afraid I'm somewhat under-equipped in that area."

Matt leaned over him, his lips brushing Mohinder's. "Don't worry about it," he said. "We'll just stuff your shirt with some socks."

*

Kissing Mohinder could get to be addictive if Matt let it. Every single time he touched his lips to Mohinder's, Mohinder made this noise. A soft little _thing_ at the back of his throat. Not a whine, not a whimper, not a moan, but something mixed up in the middle of them all. Whatever that sound was, Matt thought he could listen to it forever.

"Anymore confessions?" he asked, mumbling the question against Mohinder's mouth.

Mohinder shook his head a little. "None, you?"

"Nope," Matt slid down, moving away from Mohinder's face for the promise of the body hidden beneath layers of fabric. "You wear too much clothes," he complained, pushing the shirts up and out of his way.

"So, get rid of them," Mohinder teased.

"Careful," Matt warned, sliding his tongue up the curve of Mohinder's hip. "I might take you up on that." He pictured Mohinder walking around the loft. His cock heartily seconded the idea. "Molly's next sleepover at Niki's should be good."

Mohinder laughed, curling a hand into Matt's hair. "The perils of parenthood."

"Yeah, we don't warn you about the restrictions on nudity," Matt said. "It's always one of those deal-breakers, so we learned to hide it."

Mohinder's answer of "Prudent," was lost in a groan as Matt freed him from his pants, fingers stroking down the length of him. This was always the awkward part. Unlike most, Matt hated first times. He hated the uncertainty of it. Matt liked knowing where to touch, and how to touch, and just what would make them scream.

He brushed the barest of touches over the slit, then leaned over to kiss the same place. Mohinder's hand in his hair tightened, and Matt heard him make the slightest of gasps. He did it again, looking up curiously, and watched a look of pleasure settle in on Mohinder's face.

Confident, he knelt and straddled Mohinder's legs. "Lift the hips," he said, working Mohinder's pants down his hips when he complied. Shifting, he pushed them off entirely and let them fall to the floor. "Perfect," he said, returning to his position.

He looked up, grinning when Mohinder licked his lips. "Patience," he said.

Mohinder made a face. "I am terribly _im_patient, Matthew," he said, his breathing ragged. "Particularly when it's something that I've been fantasizing about for weeks."

The statement surprised Matt and he sat back. "Really? You've been fantastizing about _me_?"

The expression on Mohinder's face became one of fond amusement. "I've been having _many_ fantasies about you," he said. "There are a number of which I expect to see carried out." He grinned. "One of which involves the office and my bookcases."

Matt thought about that. About Mohinder naked, hands white-knuckled on the book case, and his body gleaming with sweat. "Fuck," he said, palming himself, pressing against his jeans. "Just..." he shook his head. "Fuck."

"That would be the plan," Mohinder said. He rocked his hips meaningfully, his erection catching Matt's eye.

"Yeah, it would be, wouldn't it?" Matt asked. He took Mohinder into his mouth and closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he knelt there and savored it. Mohinder on his tongue, all spice and salt, and something that could only be described as him. Then Mohinder's hand returned to his hair, tugging meaningfully.

Matt opened his eyes and winked before he sucked Mohinder's cock in deep, as far as he could take it. The last time he'd done this had been the week after the divorce. Some guy in a club who'd cursed, yanked on his hair, and fucked into him like there was no tomorrow. He'd needed that then, but he needed this more. Mohinder's touch on him was firm, but reassuring, and Matt wasn't afraid to admit he needed that. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, and listened to Mohinder's moans.

Out of deference to the sleeping child a few doors down, Mohinder had pressed a hand against his mouth. Matt grinned around him, resolving to call Niki in the morning.

They needed that night to themselves and they needed it _now_.

He moved, resting his weight on his hands, and worked on Mohinder. Mohinder who seemed to be quietly losing his mind. The thrusting of his hips stuttered, the rhythm of his movement gone, and his hands started to roam aimlessly.

When Mohinder came, it was with a hoarse cry of pleasure. One not-quite smothered by his own hand pressed over his mouth.

Rising up to kiss him, Matt was smug. "Guess I blew your brains out, huh?" he teased.

Mohinder groaned. "Please," he said. "Have mercy."

Matt considered it. "Maybe later," he said, and kissed him again.

*

When Mohinder Suresh finally did pop the question, it still wasn't legal in New York.

"You know what she's going to suggest," Matt said, kissing Mohinder's neck as he looked over brochures. "She's been doing research."

"Oh dear," Mohinder looked up. "Google?"

"Safe search was on," Matt said. "And Niki helped her."

Mohinder closed his eyes in relief. "Thankfully."

"She's putting together a trip for the whole family," Matt advised. He kissed a spot behind Mohinder's ear, one guaranteed to make him shiver. "Niki said she's been negotiating with hotels."

"She _has_?"

"Uh, huh," Matt nodded. "Nathan wants to hire her."

"I trust you told him no," Mohinder said, sliding closer to Matt. He could forget about brochures for now. "She's far too young for a part-time job."

"I told him no," Matt promised. He hissed when Mohinder's hand pushed its way down his pants. "But not because of that."

Mohinder found his cock, stroking. "No?"

"Nope," Matt said, voice strained.

Mohinder's other hand unzipped Matt's jeans, giving them room to move. "Why, then?"

"Because she'd take over inside of a week," Matt said. "And one Angela Petrelli in the world is enough."

They both shuddered.

"More than," Mohinder agreed.

"GUYS!" Molly's annoyed voice made them both freeze.

Mohinder yanked a throw over Matt's lap as they turned to look over the couch at her. "I thought you were in bed," he said, giving her a stern look. "You've school in the morning."

She shook her head. "And I thought we agreed no funny business in the living room. You totally can't give me the sex talk if you two can't keep your hands off each other." She folded her arms. "It's a very bad example. How am I going to learn self-control, huh?"

Matt looked at Mohinder and Mohinder looked at Matt.

"Talk to your aunt," they chorused.

Molly looked from her Dad to Mohinder and back again. She shook her head and said, "You guys are such _dorks_!"

"We're your parents," Matt agreed. "It's a rule."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. Turning around, she flicked her hair. "I'm going back to bed. We'll talk about Niagara in the morning."

Mohinder looked at Matt. "You do realize that when she hits puberty, we may have to kill her."

Matt nodded. "The thought has crossed my mind."

"It's us, or her," Mohinder said. He brushed a soft kiss across Matt's lips, smiling as he pulled the throw out of his way. Matt's cock in his hand was warm, eager, and so very tempting. "You know this, of course?"

He pulled away, sliding down to Matt's lap.

Matt curled a hand into his hair, holding tight. "No offense, honey," he said, "but I'm putting my money on her."


End file.
